


stuck in the sun

by cabinfever



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Blind Noctis, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Altissia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2019-03-16 03:19:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13627497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cabinfever/pseuds/cabinfever
Summary: When Noctis wakes in Altissia, he's in the dark.Ignis tries his best to pick up the pieces.





	stuck in the sun

**Author's Note:**

> written for ignoct week day four: "Noctis goes blind instead of Ignis"
> 
> title taken from "sunshine riptide" by fall out boy.

He can hardly believe that they make it out alive. 

The waves angrily dash themselves against the stones of the altar, threatening to rise up and swallow them away. Ignis sits on the sodden stone, holding Noct in his lap, trying his best to shield him from the worst of the elements.

Ravus crouches beside them. His eyes are never still, darting around like a prey creature, and they gleam red around the edges, evidence of his grief. He looks down at Noctis, then back to the archway that brought them here. He mutters, “I expected him to show up.” 

“Who?”

“Ardyn,” Ravus snarls, and the name sounds like a curse.

Ignis blinks. “Why would he? He’s just the chancellor.”

“Are you as oblivious as you are reckless?” Ravus sneers. “Ardyn Izunia is a plague on the empire. Nobody else would be half so bold as to kill the Oracle.” He says it so bluntly that Ignis almost winces. “Though it makes sense.” Again, Ravus’s gaze falls on Noctis. “He has no use for a crippled king.”

Ignis brushes Noct’s hair out of his face and snaps at Ravus, “Don’t say things like that.”

Ravus matches his glare. “I know the magic of the Lucii. He’s been touched by it. Too much, I’d say.”

“He’ll be fine,” Ignis insists. Then again, quieter, “He’ll be fine.”

“You should ask yourself who you’re convincing,” Ravus tells him.

“You-”

“I’ll be going. I’m not what he needs. When he is ready…” Ravus’s brow furrows. For just a moment, his mismatched eyes soften, looking down at Noctis in a way that looks like maybe he’s grieving for him too. “I will be waiting.”

He walks away.

Ignis lets him go.

He turns back to Noct, carefully, checking him for wounds. His face is unmarred, and his clothes show no sign of blood loss that would be immediately concerning. There’s nothing outwardly wrong with him, and that’s what’s concerning him. It could be some sort of trauma to his head, or something magical, or worse-

No.

He’s not dying. He’s not.

Ignis bends over Noct’s body, protecting him from a threat long gone, or far ahead. “I’ll keep you safe,” he promises. “I’ll keep you safe.”

They sit like that, stranded among the waves.

The sun sets.

 

\---

 

There’s not much hope now. 

He’s breathing, at least. They’ve brought him to the massive estate of the First Secretary in the administrative quarter. That, at least, is mostly intact. She’s sent them a doctor to confirm that Noct will be okay.

The doctor shines something in his eyes with a small flashlight, frowning down at Noct’s unmoving face. He’s silent for entirely too long.

“Well?” Ignis holds on tightly to Noct’s hand, running his thumb along the stark lines of his knuckles. Gladio and Prompto are pressed in beside him, unwilling to leave Noct’s side either. Ignis is glad for their company; he doesn’t know what he’d do if he didn’t have someone here to be his rock. They all need Noct more than ever, and Noct needs them. They’re not going anywhere until they know he’s okay.

Slowly, the doctor shakes his head. “He’s not responding to the light.”

Ignis’s heart sinks. “What does that mean?”

The doctor’s lips set into a thin line. “We won’t know until he wakes up, unfortunately.” He opens his mouth again, pauses, then adds, “That is-”

“Save it,” Gladio snarls. “He’s waking up. He wouldn’t go that easily. He’s tougher than that.”

“His condition-”

Gladio glares. “He’s the king. He’ll wake up.”

Ignis says, quietly, “Is there anything else we must know?”

The doctor glances over at him. He’s smart; he knows a dismissal when he sees one. Ignis hopes he appreciates Ignis going out of his way to give him an easy out. “Make sure he stays on fluids until he wakes. The nurses will happily provide that, I’m sure.” His gaze flickers over to Gladio again. “Altissia owes a great debt to your king.”

Ignis narrows his eyes; he hears the veiled bitterness in this doctor’s tone. “The king sacrificed much for Altissia’s safety. I hope for your sake that it isn’t his life.”

Normally, he wouldn’t make such a threat, or at least not one half as obvious. But he’s sodden and tired and desperate, and this doctor presumes to despise Noctis after everything he’s given.

The doctor leaves.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Gladio warns him quietly.

Ignis glances over; there are dark circles around Gladio’s eyes, and blood smeared on his skin from yet-untreated wounds. “My patience is thin,” he says. Then, softer, “Get some rest. Both of you. I’ll take first watch with him.” 

The two of them are a mess from the battles they must have endured in Ignis’s absence. Gladio’s eyes flicker towards Noct, then over to Prompto, who’s pressed against his side. Prompto’s eyes are half-lidded despite his concern for Noct, doing nothing to hide the sheer force of his exhaustion. “We’ll stay,” Prompto insists.

“No,” Gladio says, “Iggy’s right. C’mon, we’re no good to him like this.” He stands and offers a hand to Prompto, helping him up and leading him out of the room.

Ignis settles in closer by Noct’s side, and he waits.

 

\---

 

Ignis is holding his hand when he wakes up.

Noct stirs beside him, screwing his eyes further shut. He lets out a soft, pained groan. 

Ignis immediately leans in close, squeezing Noct’s fingers to let him know he’s there. Pain means Noct’s awake, and that he’s using his head. Things will be okay. “Noct,” he whispers. “Noct, it’s Ignis. You’re safe.”

“Hurts,” is the first word out of Noct’s mouth, rough and strangled.

A wave of relief crashes over Ignis. He’s talking. “I know,” he soothes. “You were unconscious. It may take you a moment to reorient yourself.”

“My head hurts,” Noct rasps.

Ignis strokes a thumb across the back of Noct’s hand. “Save your strength,” he urges quietly.

Noct shakes his head and shifts, trying to sit up. He doesn’t quite manage it. “I don’t know what happened,” he says, raising his other hand to rub at the space between his eyes.

“How are you feeling?”

“The rite-”

“Succeeded,” Ignis interrupts smoothly. “You received the Tidemother’s blessing.”

“Don’t remember that,” Noct mutters. 

“It’ll come back to you, I’m sure.” Ignis raises Noct’s hand to his lips and kisses his fingers. “What matters is that you’re safe.”

Noct’s lips turn up into a pleased, tired smile. “Safe,” he murmurs. 

He opens his eyes.

He blinks once.

Twice.

Slowly, he turns his head towards Ignis.

“Ignis,” Noctis rasps. “Turn on the lights.”

Ignis’s world freezes.

_ Oh, no. Gods, no. _

He’d expected it. He had, even if he tries to convince himself otherwise. The doctor had said as much. They should have all expected this. But the icy realization in his heart still shocks him, and he takes a moment to compose himself.

“Noct,” he says quietly. “Noct, the lights are on. It’s the middle of the day.”

Noctis sits there for a long moment. He blinks again; when he tilts his head to the side, the sunlight falls across his face, but he doesn’t react to it at all. Then he asks, “What?”

“Noct, it would appear-”

“I don’t know how it would appear, Ignis,” Noct says, dangerously low, “because I can’t see anything.”

“There’s no way of knowing how you went-” He stumbles on the words; catches himself. He forces himself to say, “How you went-”

_ “Blind?”  _ Noctis snarls.

It’s as striking as it is painful to hear, especially with the way that Noct spits it with such unbridled fury. But the rage disappears as quickly as it’d come, and it gives way to naked, raw fear on Noct’s features. 

“Ignis-”

“Noct, I need you to stay calm.” He needs  _ himself  _ to stay calm. 

Noct scrambles up to a sitting position against the headboard, pulling his legs up to his chest and hugging them tight. He shakes his head quickly, as if he’s trying to rid himself of a passing inconvenience. His breathing comes in short, panicked bursts, speeding up with every breath he takes. “I-” he chokes. “I-I don’t-”

And Noct looks at him.

Noct’s eyes are silver-blue now, touched by some horrible miracle of the armiger which bought him Leviathan’s blessing. In the sunlight, his eyes gleam just like the magic of the kings, multifaceted as if the raw power turned his gaze into the Crystal itself. 

It’d be beautiful if Noct weren’t crying.

Ignis’s heart breaks for him. “Noct-”

“Get out,” Noctis whispers, breath stuttering in his chest. “Get out.”

Ignis leaves.

At the door, though, he says, “I’m sorry.”

 

\---

 

When Noct allows him inside again, Ignis brings a gift.

“The first secretary has been so kind as to provide us with a cane-”

“Put it away.”

Ignis frowns. “Noct?”

“Put that thing in the armiger.” Noct turns his head to the side. “I don’t want it here.”

Ignis hesitates for a moment. He almost reaches out to touch Noct’s shoulder, but there’s something crackling in the air like magic just on the edge of being unleashed. He obliges Noct’s request slowly and carefully, like Noct might shatter at any moment. He closes his eyes, attunes himself to the armory beyond the world that they all share, and he introduces the cane to a spot in its endless dimensional maw. It dissolves into light between his fingers; Ignis feels it slip into place in the armory, and he knows that Noctis does too. He hates the way he can see his king flinch at the feeling.

Noct bows his head, staring down at his hands with empty crystalline eyes. He doesn’t speak for a few minutes; instead, he just clenches and opens his fists, over and over, as if that’ll bring him some sort of clarity. Finally, he asks, quietly, “Where do we go from here?”

It’s too early for that sort of thing. Noct needs to rest. Noct needs to heal, and then they can come up with a plan. Until then, they can stay here under the First Secretary’s protection; she wouldn’t refuse the pleas of a newly blind king. Ignis carefully says, “I hadn’t given it much thought-”

“You always have a fucking plan, Ignis,” Noct snaps. “Come up with one.”

Taken aback, Ignis recoils. Of course Noct can be furious. Of course. It’s just...Ignis hadn’t expected that it’d be at him. 

“Just give me something-” Noct’s fingers tangle in the sheets; ice blooms along his skin for a moment and fades again. “Just give me something familiar.”

Ignis’s attention flickers to the magic dancing along Noct’s fingers, and then back to Noct again. He beg his brain for something,  _ anything,  _ that might be more familiar to Noct than just Ignis. He hates to force this on Noct like this, but if Noct wants strategy and familiarity, Ignis will give it to him. He sighs. “We’ll need to teach you how to warp again.” He bows his head. “That is, if you’d like to learn.”

Noct’s jaw sets for a moment. “I know how to warp, Ignis.”

“Yes,” Ignis admits as calmly as possible, “but without your sight, Noct, you’ll need to rethink your strategy.”

“My strategy,” Noct repeats, disgusted. “You just throw things, and you hope they don’t kill you.”

Noct pulls the Ring from his pocket. He turns it over in his hand; it glints in the sunlight, beautiful despite the power in its depths. He draws his arm back before Ignis can realize what he’s doing. When he does, he recognizes the motion and calls, “Noct,  _ wait-” _

Noctis throws the Ring.

He disappears in a shower of blue and gold sparks, and in the half-heartbeat when he doesn’t exist, Ignis fears that he’ll never reappear, and that the old kings have decided to claim more than just his sight.

But then-

The room explodes in light again, and Noct emerges in the middle of the room, chest heaving. Immediately, he staggers to the side, probably disoriented by the lack of any sort of visual cue.  _ “Fuck,”  _ he hisses, and he falls to the ground.

Ignis is already halfway to him, vaulting over the couch to get to him. “Noct!” he cries again. He falls to his knees beside Noct, heart stuttering in his chest. “Thank the gods you’re alright,” he murmurs, and he calms his shaking hands enough to reach out and spread his hand carefully against Noct’s back, offering support. “Noct, speak to me.”

Noct’s holding his hand up to his face, pressing his fingers against his temple. “Ignis,” he whimpers, and when he looks towards where Ignis is coming from, his blind eyes trail phantom fire.

But it’s gone as quickly as it’d come, and once more the power of the kings lies dormant in him.

Ignis reaches for Noct’s wrist. “Let’s get you up-”

Noct bats his hand away as soon as he touches him, spitting, “No!” He staggers to his feet himself, panting. “I hate this,” Noct snarls, and he clutches at the back of the nearest chair for support. “I hate it.” The room smells like ozone and smoke, and where his hand holds the chair, ice spreads from his fingers.

Ignis leaps to his feet and holds out his arms tentatively, but not quite touching him. “Let me help,” he says softly, and when Noctis nods wearily, he completes the motion, carefully

Noct sags against him as soon as Ignis wraps his arms around him, pressing his face into the fabric of Ignis’s shirt. “I hate it,” he repeats. “I hate it.”

Ignis closes his eyes for a moment. Noct is feather-light in his arms, like a bird with broken wings.  _ I hate it too,  _ he whispers in his heart, because the pain in Noct’s voice is more than enough to break his heart. “Let’s get you back to bed,” he murmurs into Noct’s hair, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head. “You’ve done too much.”

“I hate it,” Noct whispers again, but even now, he just sounds weary.

Ignis quietly leads him to the bed, where Noctis curls up against him, tangling his fingers up in the fabric of his shirt. He whispers curses and pleas into Ignis’s chest, and the vibrations of them make their way to Ignis’s heart, incorporating themselves into its rhythm. Ignis hears them all; he feels them all. Every  _ please,  _ every  _ why me,  _ every  _ I wish I was dead instead. _

Eventually, Noct’s hand loosens, and the air stops smelling like a storm is brewing within its walls, and Noctis falls asleep.

Ignis stays with him the whole time. He can’t sleep. He can only think of what he’s seen, and of the visions forced into his mind, and of Noct being led towards a fate he cannot see.

 

\---

 

Noct wakes in the middle of the night, screaming.

Ignis is holding him in a heartbeat, holding on gently to his flailing arms, rubbing soothing circles against the pulse at Noct’s wrists, quietly begging him to  _ be calm, Noct, I’m here. I’m here. _

Noct cries out, “Ignis, I can’t see-” and Ignis’s heart breaks for him.

“I know, Noct,” he murmurs, and he pulls Noct in close. “I know.” In the dark like this, he can almost convince himself that he traded places with Noct, and that everything will be okay. 

Against Ignis’s neck, close enough to his ear that his voice sends chills down Ignis’s spine, Noct asks, “How can I be king now?”

“You’re the king already,” Ignis murmurs. “Nobody can take that away from you.”

Noct’s breath catches, and he says roughly, “I wish they would.”

Ignis closes his eyes, squeezing them shut against this reality. “I would have given anything,” he says quietly, “to take your place. To lift this burden from your shoulders.”

He hates the Lucii. The old kings do nothing but take. They stole the life from King Regis, and they burnt the life out of a loyal Glaive, and they delivered Noctis the power that was his birthright at the expense of his sight. Nothing is free from the Lucii, least of all Noct. Once more, Ignis winces at an unwelcome flash of spectral swords shattering through Noct’s chest.

“You can’t,” Noct mutters. “Some savior I’ll be.”

“We’ll make it through this,” he promises Noct. “A king pushes onward.”

“Always,” Noct finishes. He sighs, but even then, his breath hitches around tears. “I’ll need you guys here to help me to the end.”

_ To the end.  _ The words are enough to remind Ignis of cold swords in a cold body. But Ignis indulges Noct, because despite seeing what he’s seen, he knows he could never leave Noct to bear that burden on his own.

“I’m here,” he promises. “I’m here.” 

Noct holds on tightly to Ignis’s shirt, clinging to him like a lifeline, and Ignis lets him. He wraps his arms around Noct, holding him close. Together, they sit in silence in the ruins of Altissia, listening to the waves that’d nearly swept them away. The dawn will come eventually, though the nights creep ever-longer around them. Noctis says as much, hoarse and quiet, like that’s something to be proud of.  _ Eventually. _

So they stay awake. Noctis has never been an early riser, but tonight he keeps his crystalline eyes wide open, staring at the window he’ll never see. It’s like he needs this dawn as some sort of proof, or promise, or...something. Ignis knows that one day the dawn will come with a price, but he’s content to wait for this one with Noct in his arms.

Ignis keeps his eyes closed so the sunrise will surprise him too.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr at [triplehelix!](http://www.triplehelix.tumblr.com)


End file.
